wcEND.rtf (12 page)

A knock on the door distracted him. Jeremy, his squire, showed his face in the opening.

"My
l
ord. Will you wish to shave this day?"

Hunter ran his hand over the hard stubble of his day-old beard. For a moment he thought of not bothering, then remembering Détra, he decided he wished to look his best for her
.
After all, he had a bride to woo.

"Aye," he said.

Jeremy disappeared to return moments later with the
f
ixings for his shaving. That should be a duty for a page or a loving wife, but Jeremy insisted on doing this small task himself. Hunter understood well the boy's need to please him. Jeremy had lost his entire family when the hut they lived in caught fire in the middle of the night six years ago. He was the only survivor, and with no one to care of him, Hunter had taken in the boy and trained him as his squire. They had left Hawkhaven together and Jeremy had been grateful ever since.

Hunter cherished the thought of giving Jeremy the rare chance to rise above his station. A chance he himself had been given years ago.

"My lord,” Jeremy said as he soaped Hunter's face. “The castle is abuzz with tales of you and Lady Détra."

"And what do they say?"

"That you have finally found your way into her graces."

Hunter was well aware of the impossibility of keeping secrets in a castle, and yet he had pressed D
é
tra into keeping their unconsummated marriage out of gossip
m
ongers' ears. Thus far he thought he had succeeded, for Jeremy would have told him long ago if such tales were carried about the castle.

But there was no hiding the cold distance between lord and lady. Détra was not a very demonstrative woman, even in the privacy of their bedchamber, let alone in the open view of servants and castle folks alike. No one had yet caught them in an intimate embrace, or even touching in public.

Not until this morning, that is, when he and Détra had walked hand in hand through the bailey and the great hall. No wonder the people of Windermere Castle were so shocked.

With the knife at Hunter's throat, Jeremy asked, "Well, did you?"

Hunter gave his squire a look that said, "Do your duty and shut your mouth," and immediately Jeremy returned his attention to his task.

Aware of Détra
's
objections to him before the chalice had stolen her memories, Hunter hoped to bring her to accept her place as his lady wife. He understood that even though a woman had the right to refuse being married by force, at least according to the Church, to refuse a king's orders would be foolhardy. Détra must have understood that for she had agreed to the marriage, albeit grudgingly. What she expected to gain in postponing the consummation of their marriage, he knew not. At first he had believed her excuses, but after this morning's confrontation he realized Détra must have had a plan in mind.

Surely she could not hope to obtain an annulment or a divorce. She had complained of lack of choices in her life, but even if she succeeded in the unthinkable, surely she knew the king would swiftly appoint another husband for he
r
—
o
ne much less willing to forgive her sullen disposition.

Unless she had a particular man in mind!

The disagreeable thought took hold of Hunter. He had known of a prior bid to her hand, though he was unaware from whence it came. And yet the king had granted her to him. There was no reason to believe he would reverse his decree.

As Jeremy cleaned the remainder of soap and hair from his face with a wet cloth, Hunter plotted his plan. He had vowed to wait a week before demanding his lady wife's compliance to her wifely duties to him. Meanwhile, he would miss no opportunity to shatter the wall of mistrust between them.

Before her memories returned, Hunter would have wooed his lady wife into his bed, proved to all and sundry they were indeed a married couple, and hopefully found his way into her heart.

HUNTER inserted the key into the rusty
l
ock outside his private chamber in the garrison's quarters. He was the only one who owned such a key, thus the chalice would be safe here. He made certain the door was locked, then left in a hurry. Though Maude had informed him she had mixed a sleeping draught into Détra
'
s potion and she would be sleeping at least until late into the night, most probably until dawn, Hunter wanted to be close at hand in case she woke up suddenly and started asking too many questions.

There would be plenty of people willing to whisper tales about their previous estrangement in his lady's ear
s
— tales he would rather she heard from h
i
m in more appropriate circumstances.

Hunter thought of ways to avoid that situation. He could ask
Détra
to remain in her bedchamber, but that would be foolish. He had learned these past fortnight D
é
tra was not a lady to linger in idle contemplation. She firmly believed in being involved in every facet of the running of her castl
e
—
e
xcluding war waging, he hope
d
— and its people. The castle folks were very loyal to her and abided by her every wish. They obviously trusted her to care for their welfare. Hunter understood duty and loyalty, and he admired his lady's mettle. And yet he had to minimize her contact with her people somehow.

The tempting alternative of locking D
é
tra in her bedchamber, away from prying tongues, however, was out of question. It would destroy the fragile understanding they were working upon.

His only choice would be to allow her controlled access to the keep and its people while he and Maude kept a close eye on her. He also thought it wise to keep Détra's malady a secret. He trusted Maude to keep quie
t
—
i
n fact, he had already obtained her promise to do s
o
—
a
nd he would convince Détra of the same. The fewer people knowing her
l
oss of memory, the less they would speculate and the less they would meddle.

Hunter was almost out of the garrison's quarters when he passed Gervase, Windermere's premier knight. He briefly nodded at the man and continued on.

"My lord?" Gervase called, halting Hunter's progress. "I have disturbing tidings."

Hunter was instantly alert. "Speak."

"A band of Scots was sighted less than a day away from Windermere."

Hunter stiffened. Scots raids occurred with haunting frequency of late but never this far south. Windermere was miles away from the nearest Scottish border. What would they be doing here?

"How many?" Hunter asked.

"Five or six. The traveler who sighted them understandably did not get too close a look."

Hunter nodded. The Scots were a fierce people and Robert the Bruc
e
—
S
cotland's chosen kin
g
—
w
as a veritable stone in King Edward's boots. A stone the king hoped Hunter would remove by uncovering the identity of an English traitor Edward believed had fueled Bruce for years with vital information.

King Edward II despised the thought that not only had Bruce wrestled back nearly all of Scotland from English hands, but also that he and his outnumbered army had soundly defeated the English at the Batde of Bannockburn last summer. Therefore, Br
a
ce's demand that England recognize Scotland's independence and his rightful place as its king fell solidly on Edward's deaf ears.

"There are not many of them to lay siege to any well-defended castle, especially not Windermere," Gervase said, interrupting Hunter's thoughts.

"
That might be true," Hunter said. Could
th
ey have ventured this far not to raid but for a clandestine meeting with their informant? "However, it warrants to have them watched closely and to warn our neighbors." And their closest neighbor would be Lord Reginald and his son, Rupert. The old man's failing health had him confined to his bed; therefore, it would be with Rupert that the messenger would have to deal. That was a task Hunter would rather delegate to someone else.

"I shall send a scouting party out to access the proximity of our enemy," Gervase said.

"Nay."

"But, my lor
d
—"

"I shall go myself," Hunter said. A scouting party would not be looking for a traitor, and Hunter had a hunch the man was in the vicinity.

"Send a messenger to warn Hawkhaven of the possible danger, and have my dest
rier ready," Hunter said. "I de
part shortly."
And hopefully I'll return before dawn when Détra arises,
he thought.

******************

ISABEL WOKE UP FROM A HEAVY SLEEP IN A DARK room with a flickering light. Feeling quite disoriented, she focused on the light, and as her eyes adjusted she noticed the fire dying in the fireplace and white curtains around her bed.

Her grandmother's bed didn't have curtains.

Isabel sprang up in bed and the covers fell to her lap. A chill settled over her body, and instinctively she pulled the covers up. At the first glimpse of her naked, voluptuous chest, awareness filled her with a rush of memories, placing her not only where she was but also in whose body.

The sheer weight of such acknowledgment took her breath away. She gathered the coverlet to her chest. This was no flight of fancy but brutal reality. Taking a steadying breath, Isabel put the last events in order in her mind-She remembered drinking a potion for her headache late mis mornin
g
—
a
t least she thought it was this mornin
g
— and resting her eyes closed for a moment. Judging by the lack of light in
f
iltrating through the shuttered window and the silence and darkness in the room, that moment had lasted longer than she'd anticipated. Thank God her head no longer hurt.

Her gaze strayed to the place beside her in me bed and a sigh of relief escaped her at not finding Hunter there. At least she didn't have to face him now. Maybe Hunter, considering her feelings, had decided to sleep somewhere else for now. At least she hoped so.

Wrapping the covers around her body, Isabel rose to her feet. The floor was cold as she skipped to the door. She opened it and peeked outside in the dark corridor.

There was no one in sight. It must be the middle of the night. A great opportunity to go searching for the chalice, but without light and not knowing where to go it seemed a losing proposition. Isabel hesitated, then closed the door and returned inside.

She would begin her search in this room, though she didn't believe the chalice was here. After all, she'd seen Hunter taking it with him when he left this morning. However, he could'
v
e brought it back while she was sleeping. Even recognizing the thought was far-fetched Isabel still wanted to take a look in here. There was always the chance she could uncover some clue of its whereabouts or even learn more about Détra and Hunter.

The fire in the fireplace was now reduced to a few glowing embers and sparse kindling sparks that emanated no heat and little light. First things first. She picked up a few pieces of wood lying on the floor and dropped
th
em inside the cavernous aperture. She poked the embers with an iron poke until the fire caught. She remained before the fire, soaking in its warmth, and then spinning around, turned her attention to the badly illuminated room.

She saw the oil lamps on the wall but had no clue how to light them. Her gaze fell on the table near the bed where a candle sat on a metal holder. She picked it up and brought it to the fireplace, almost burning her hand while attempting to light it. With it, she lit the oil lamps. Though their weak luminosity was but a small improvement, the chalice's shape and size would be easy enough to locate in the room, even if she couldn't see clearly.